


Take Off

by Impetus



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: M/M, pre-kerberos, tutoring au
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-01-11
Updated: 2018-01-11
Packaged: 2019-03-03 10:15:13
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,685
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13339113
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Impetus/pseuds/Impetus
Summary: Shiro gets assigned a student named Lance McClain.Shiro has not heard much about Lance McClain, but frankly? None of it is good.





	Take Off

**Author's Note:**

  * For [mcclain](https://archiveofourown.org/users/mcclain/gifts).



> This was part of the giveaway in the Shance Cafe Discord!  
> The recipient agreed to let me post so I hope you enjoy!

Lance McClain is a name Shiro has only heard in passing. _He’s a pain in the ass_. That’s what Keith says anyway.

 

The instructors do not elaborate anymore than Keith does. Perhaps with more tact, they say the same thing.

 

_A hard time focusing._

 

_He can be a bit...distracting to the other students._

 

“He’s a pain in the ass!” Keith grouses again, when Shiro mentions that he has an appointment with the cargo pilot.

 

“I’m sure he’s not that bad,” Shiro says.

 

***

 

“Hey, are you an astronaut? Because I want to explore the stars with you!”

 

_A distraction._

 

“Cadet McClain, please sit down.”

 

“Uh, yessir,” Lance chuckles sheepishly, the smell of lotion wafting in the air as the Cadet ducks past him to sit at the table in the middle of the dimly lit study room. It’s a bit shoddy, the room they’ve been assigned. Shiro’s nose wrinkles as Lance pulls his textbooks from his bag. The books are littered with folded pages and the occasional stained corner. Lance’s notes are comprised of chicken scratch and doodles.

 

_A hard time focusing._

 

When Shiro looks over Keith’s work, his books are pristine. Keith flies mostly on instinct and understands everything intuitively. Keith does not destroy his textbooks.

 

“Alright, where would you like to start?”

 

Lance stares up at Shiro with a creased brow and a shrug of his shoulders.

 

“Um...all of it? Iverson says I’m pretty much useless.”

 

Shiro heaves a deep sigh.

 

_A pain in the ass._

 

***

 

Over the first four weeks, Shiro learns that the textbook pages are bent because Lance reads them over and over. The paper is stained because Lance drinks coffee and tea that set his nerves alight if he tires. Lance is still unwieldy with his gangly limbs and caffeine makes him even clumsier.

 

Shiro learns this only because he forgot a pamphlet in the study room and doubles back to get it. Negligence at face value. But it is more. Lance is more.

 

So Shiro sets aside every passing word he’s heard and tries to listen.

 

During their tutoring sessions, Lance absorbs everything he says like a sponge. His handwriting is atrocious but plentiful as he takes note after note as Shiro speaks. He responds with questions. Question after question about _why_ and _how_. Shiro answers the ones he has answers to. The others, he keeps filed away.

 

All of the information that Lance scribbled down are committed to memory. He does well on paper. It’s fills Shiro with joy to know that Lance is doing well. The Cadet is curious and full of boundless energy. So Shiro tries to channel it. At first he does not know how. He learns with time.

 

 _I was wrong,_ Shiro decides when Lance brings him a graded essay and test. He has aced them both.

 

***

 

Six months pass and Shiro realizes that all Lance needed was for someone to care. Lance is not Keith, he is not made of fire that consumes, grows, and spreads. Lance is like a riptide, Shiro realizes. Unassuming to those who aren’t looking.

 

Lance’s potential lies deep and unseen, a current that runs beneath the surface. Shiro’s heart pounds in his chest.

 

Riptides will sweep you away.

 

***

 

It is like breathing. He does not do it consciously. It is not by choice that he starts to linger on Lance’s laughter. It is not an active decision to map Lance’s silhouette against the fading light of the setting sun as it paints their dusty study room with gold. It is time that drags him along and Lance’s earnestness that takes his hand.

 

“Thank you so much for the help, Shiro. You don’t know how much it means to me!” Lance says, eyes closed as he stretches the too-long limbs of his body. He is growing. Already almost as tall as Shiro is himself.

 

Shiro takes stock of the man he had gotten to know over the last few months. Four years younger and obviously so, the weaving sinew of Lance’s body is wiry and drawn taut; always at the ready as the boy bounces his legs or attempts to twirl a pencil between his fingers. One blue eye peeks open as Lance’s cheeks pull the corners of his lips into a well-practiced smirk. “I wanted to learn from the best of the best.” It is said with breathy carelessness. A nonchalance that Shiro knows is embedded into every fiber of Lance’s being. Praise comes easily to Lance’s tongue and it is a wonder that Shiro, Lance’s hero, has been spared death by embarrassment for so long. Shiro wonders what those compliments taste like.

 

Shiro chuckles instead. “Of course, Lance. I am glad to have been assigned to you. You’ve got a lot of potential.”

 

Lance’s smile widens, then shrinks as Shiro’s phone begins to chime.

 

“You gotta go?”

 

It is a strange sort of satisfaction that flutters in Shiro’s chest as he realizes that Lance does not want him to leave.

 

“I’ve got to get to the fighter-pilot combat class. None of the cadets are suitable to practice with Keith, so I offered to help him practice,” Shiro says. He repeats this each time. Every time Lance asks if he has to leave. As if to tell Lance that he would stay if he could. 

 

_If he could, he would stay with Lance forever._

 

“No need to explain to me, captain! Go whoop some cadet butt!” Lance shoots Shiro a pair of finger guns from where he sits, ass still planted on the standard issue scuffed wooden chair.

 

“That’s not what I’m going to do, Lance,” Shiro notes, voice patient. The boy just waves him off, back now curved and face planted in his textbook.

 

“Go on! You gotta go! Top fighter-pilot Keith Kogane isn’t really known to wait for anyone. Not even the Garrison poster boy.” The words are harmless, regurgitated conversation that makes its way even to Shiro’s ears. But they sting. They sting with a tone of indifference that Shiro never thought he would hear from Lance. Lance is known for his passion. His voice and attitude clawing their way to the forefront of your attention.

 

_Like the sea that glistens beneath the sky._

 

Lance turns his head to face Shiro, glossy pages sticking to the cargo pilot’s dark skin. “Seriously, man...uh...sir. You’re going to be late if you don’t leave now.”

 

So Shiro leaves, the sun setting on the sea as he hurries to the garrison’s gym.

 

***

 

After combat practice, Shiro is called to Iverson’s office.

 

The words are exciting. Stark black shapes slammed into sharp white-edged paper.

 

“You have been selected to pilot the Kerberos Mission.”

 

A dream come true. He is going to space.

 

“You’re tutoring that McClain boy, right?” Says Iverson, voice gruff. “What do you think of him? He’s no Kogane but he’s made some impressive improvement under your care.”

 

It is only luck that keeps Shiro’s entire face from turning red.

 

 _At first he was obnoxious and tried to hit on me._ Shiro thinks.

 

_But he is so much more than I thought he was._

 

“Cadet McClain has been working hard to improve all of his skills. I think he would do well in any program he chooses to pursue,” Shiro nods, pride clinging to every word like honey.

 

Iverson laps it up.

 

“We’re thinking about putting him in line to join fighter class if a spot opens up,” the man snarls despite his plain and unaffected tone. “You think he’s got what it takes?

 

Shiro takes in a breath. Lance’s smile is warm. Despite all of his bravado, he is a simple and innocent man with a heart that is too big for the confines of his thin chest. Fighter-pilot. It hurts Shiro to know that every dream Lance has shared with him, every empty brag he slings around involves becoming a fighter-pilot. It hurts Shiro to know that the path Lance might tread might replace that warm smile with fear and anger.

 

Fighter-pilot Lance? Lance is a lover, Shiro thinks to himself. Thinks of how many times Lance procrastinated by sharing stories of something his roommate Hunk has created. All of the women Lance has kissed. Or says he has. That hurts Shiro a bit more than he anticipated, so he sets that aside. Lance is full of stories from home, whispered secrets of recipes and beachside bonfires. No, Lance McClain is not a fighter, Shiro tells himself.

 

But he does not own Lance. And Lance is brave. Shiro is not a fool, and Lance knows what it means to fight. He does it every day. He fights expectations and challenges Keith every chance he has. Top class Keith. Shiro knows he fights homesickness and anxiety. That knowledge is courtesy of Matt, who got too interested in Shiro’s charge and prodded his own mentee, Hunk, for information. With that information came new light, and Shiro sees the nerves that dance through Lance’s fingers and bouncing knees. He is a fighter, Lance with his blue eyes and loud voice. To protect those he cares about, Shiro knows Lance will do anything.

 

A lover _and_ a fighter then.

 

“Yessir,” Shiro says. His voice is confident, as confident as he is in Lance. Iverson nods, scribbling a note on a coffee-stained post-it note.

 

“Well, congratulations, Shirogane.” Iverson’s expression barely changes, softening minimally as he salutes the young captain.

 

“Thank you, sir.”

 

***

 

Before his mission, Shiro spends another year with Lance. Their time together is shorter, as Shiro is now reporting to special training every day in preparation for Kerberos. But each day, in a quiet study room with a window view of the setting sun, Lance regales Shiro with a story of a pick-up line gone wrong, and Shiro feels like the stars are already within reach.

 

_A year in space._

 

A year for Lance to change. Shiro shakes his head at the thought. A year for Lance to _grow_. And when Shiro returns, he will see how far Lance has come.

 

Maybe, when Shiro returns, he can bring Lance to see the stars.

 

_Take off._


End file.
